


A Very Special Delivery

by CullinanKatsudon



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Actor AU, Actor Victor Nikiforov, Confident Katsuki Yuuri, Dancer Katsuki Yuuri, Drunk Katsuki Yuuri, Drunk Victor Nikiforov, Kabe-Don, M/M, Paparazzi, Pining Victor Nikiforov, Short, Switching, kpop, laundry basket smuggling, pining!victor, swooning Victor Nikifornov, vodka FTW, you knew Chris would have handcuffs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-24
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-11-04 06:15:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10985064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CullinanKatsudon/pseuds/CullinanKatsudon
Summary: Actor Victor doesn't want to be at Chris's wrap party...until a special delivery of katsudon arrives, brought by the errant extra he's been pining over, Yuuri Katsuki.It was not a rent boy on the other side of the door. It was not a barely-dressed, winking, eager young thing ready to jump into Victor’s arms.It was Yuuri Katsuki. Holding a brown bag with Yuutopia Garden To Go! stamped on the side.





	1. Chapter 1

When the doorbell rang, the chime barely audible over the pounding bass and drunken laughter from the living room and pool area, Chris stuck his head into the small dining room off the kitchen where Victor had escaped and said, “Go answer the door. It’s for you.”

Startled, Victor put down the magazine he hadn’t been reading and regarded his friend with a wary gaze. “How could it possibly be for me?” Realization dawned, and he straightened. “Chris, if you hired me another rent boy—”

Chris held up both hands as he shook his head. “Nothing of the sort. I know your shoot ran long, though, and that at best you grabbed something paltry from craft services. I ordered you dinner. Something I _know_ you’re going to like. A very special delivery.”

There was enough innuendo in Chris’s tone to promise that even if there _was_ , in fact, food waiting on the other side of the door, it was in the hands of a barely-dressed, winking and eager young thing all too eager to jump into actor Victor Nikiforov’s bed for the night. Or perhaps simply lie across his dining room table. Under normal circumstances, the mere possibility of that would have made Victor decline, treating Chris to yet another lecture on while wild times with whoever appeared at the door might be _his_ calling card, they were not and had never been Victor’s. The truth was, however, he _hadn’t_ eaten anything, not even from craft services. Not since the smoothie his assistant had handed him before the five AM call. 

Plus, he was lonely. He wasn’t having sex with the food delivery person. But perhaps he’d flirt a little, and leave a nice tip.

With a grunt, he waved Chris away, ignoring his friend’s laugh as he stood and fished in his back pocket for his wallet. “It’s paid for,” Chris called over his shoulder as he disappeared into the crowd, two eager young men appearing to decorate each of his arms.

At the sight of Victor in the doorway, the crowded room erupted in whispers, the susurrous rushing around him like a wind, or the lash of a whip. Part of him wanted to ignore the door and lose himself in that adoration, to feel that attention warm him like a sun. But the same melancholy that had plagued him for weeks now made him turn away, encouraged him to hurry down the hall to the great double front doors of Christophe Giacometti’s mansion where food—and God knew what else—waited for Victor. Taking a deep breath, he put his hand on the knob, turned it, and pulled the door wide.

It was not a rent boy on the other side of the door. It was not a barely-dressed, winking, eager young thing ready to jump into Victor’s arms.

It was Yuuri Katsuki. Holding a brown bag with _Yuutopia Garden_ _To Go!_ stamped on the side. Yuuri Katsuki wearing a decidedly unsexy outfit—it might, Victor thought, be a waiter’s uniform, one that had seen the back side of a double shift. Yuuri, with his dark hair slicked back and now flopping, spent and surrendering, over his forehead on the left side. Yuuri Katsuki in adorkable blue glasses, with his perfect little nose, and lips that parted so beautifully when he was surprised, which it appeared he was now.

“Oh— _oh_ —you…you’re _Victor._ ” He blushed, then went pale, and he looked in grave danger of dropping the bag he held as his hands began to shake. “I thought—I didn’t know—”

Victor almost reached for the bag of food to help him out, but he feared then Yuuri would run. Besides, he was shaking too. _Thank you, Christopher_. “I’m here as Chris’s guest. Everyone from _The Tale of the Sleeping Prince_ is, for the wrap party.” The party had been delayed a bit by this and that, and both Chris and Victor had moved on to other projects, but far be it for anything to stand in the way when Chris wanted to have a gathering. “I wish you would have stayed on to the film, Yuuri, so you would be here too.”

Too much! He knew that had been too much, too fast, even as the words left his mouth. Yuuri’s blush heated his whole head, stained his neck, and burned the tips of his ears as he cast his gaze anywhere but at Victor. “I…I couldn’t stay on. After my performance.”

Victor stilled, not expecting this reply. His head buzzed now with new thoughts, and no small amount of anger. “Are you saying—were you asked to leave? Did Celestino—”

“No!” Yuuri’s blush remained, but it had tamed somewhat, and if anything he seemed to stand straighter, squaring his shoulders. “No one made me do anything. I left acting on my own accord.”

_Left acting?_ Victor’s heart sank. No wonder he’d had so much trouble finding him. “I’m so sorry to hear that, Yuuri. I’ve always thought you were a wonderful actor, with so much promise.”

Now it was Yuuri who looked wary. 

But also hopeful, Victor thought.

And possibly…possibly there was a little yearning? But perhaps that was only Victor’s own heart, throwing up mirrors.

He cleared his throat. “Would you like to come in? Even just for a few minutes. I don’t want to keep you from your work, but perhaps…I thought…” He trailed off, unsure how to say what it was that he thought. He wasn’t sure he knew. Never in his dreams had he thought _Yuuri_ would be what Chris had delivered.

Very special indeed.

“I’m off work, actually.” Yuuri shifted the bag in his hands. “Normally we don’t deliver, but Chris came in the other day, fell in love with my mother’s katsudon, and called and begged me to bring him an order when my shift finished. And you know how hard it is to say no to Chris.”

“I do.” Victor had a feeling he wouldn’t ever be able to say no to him again, after tonight. “Why don’t you come in, then?”

Yuuri did, glancing around self-consciously. “Wow. I mean, I figured Chris had an amazing place, but… _wow_.”

“It is quite something, isn’t it? Please, won’t you come this way?” Victor led Yuuri to the dining room where he’d been hiding out all evening. 

“Do you live nearby?” Yuuri’s blush returned as soon as he spoke, and he waved his free hand frantically. “Ah, sorry—I shouldn’t ask such things.”

“Why not? No, I don’t live in Malibu. I have a smaller home in Beverly Hills.” He bit his cheek to keep from asking if Yuuri wanted to come and see it sometime as he pushed open the door to the dining room, ignoring the whispers from the party.

“There are a lot of people here.” Yuuri sounded uneasy, and Victor noticed he kept to the shadows. “I hope no one else recognizes me. I’m embarrassed about how I left.”

Victor still didn’t understand why Yuuri left at all, but he was beginning to dare to hope it might not have been because of something Victor had done. “Come into this dining room, and we can have some privacy.”

Yuuri went without question, but he glanced around the room, puzzled. “Where’s Chris? Katsudon isn’t good cold.” 

Chris wasn’t in the room, but the open bottle of vodka and pair of glasses told Victor he had been. Victor wasn’t certain that tactic was wise, and yet… Well, he wasn’t going to waste this chance.

He gently took Yuuri’s arm and led him to the table. “Ah, I suppose I should tell you. Chris placed the order, but the food, in fact, is for me.”

Yuuri spared him a surprised glance. “Oh?”

Victor didn’t meet his gaze, focusing instead on the vodka. Yes, it had definitely been the right call, he _was_ going to need it, and he _would_ owe Chris for the rest of his life. He hoped. He let go of Yuuri’s arm, but caught his fingertips instead as he poured himself two fingers of liquor and downed it as if it were water. Then he poured another and held the glass like an anchor, swirling the liquid gently as he spoke.

“I believe he did so knowing I wished to see you again.”

Yuuri said nothing, only set the bag of takeout heavily onto the table.

Victor noticed, however, he didn’t withdraw his hand.

Still, Victor drank the vodka in his glass before speaking again. “Since you don’t have to return to work, could you…” He swore under his breath in Russian, poured more vodka, drank it, and tried again. “Could I perhaps persuade you to sit with me while I enjoy this meal you kindly delivered?”

Time stretched long, too long in the expanse of time it took for Yuri Katsuki to give his answer. In the eternity of that gap Victor, five time Oscar winner, world-renowned actor, Hollywood’s reigning prince, the golden boy everyone wanted and no one denied—in that dining room, before Yuuri, Victor feared rejection. He feared silence. Refusal. Gentle refusal, which would be so much worse. Though this at least would be better than what he’d endured for weeks now, the silent shunning, the ache inside him making him wonder what he had done, how he had failed, what, when he’d laid his heart out before this man, had rendered him lacking enough to receive no comment at all. 

He worried perhaps it would happen here, again, and if so, he wasn’t certain how he would survive. But this time Yuuri wasn’t silent. After reaching for the other glass, pouring himself a generous helping of vodka, and downing it with an expertise which would have made even Victor’s iron-livered grandfather impressed, Yuuri set the glass back down again and nodded.

“Yes,” he said, his voice a tremulous whisper. “I’ll stay and sit with you.”

“Wonderful.” Every fiber of Victor’s body exhaled in relief. Still not releasing Yuuri’s hand, he sat down in one of the chairs at the table, smiling as Yuuri did the same. “Now,” he said, unwrapping the bag as best he could with one hand. “What in the world is katsudon?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“I should…be going.”_
> 
> _Victor raised an eyebrow. “But you just said you could stay and sit with me.”_
> 
> _This was before I thought I might embarrass myself by getting an erection while you fed me part of your dinner. Obviously Yuuri couldn’t say that. He couldn’t say anything, really._
> 
> _So he opened his mouth and let Victor feed him katsudon._
> 
> And then Yuuri had too much to drink, and...well.

Yuuri didn’t know why Victor Nikiforov, _the_ Victor Nikiforov, wanted him to watch him eat katsudon. Or why he’d ordered katsudon when he hadn’t known what it was. 

Honestly, Yuuri hadn’t thought Victor knew who _Yuuri_ was. But he seemed to. Either that or he’d been hitting the vodka pretty hard before Yuuri arrived. Which was possible, he supposed, and a good reason to get the hell out of there. 

Except not even in Yuuri’s dreams had Victor Nikiforov— _Victor fucking Nikiforov_ —looked at him this way. As if _Yuuri_ were the elusive movie star, not the washed-up wannabe waiting tables at his family’s restaurant and firmly averting his gaze from every issue of _Variety_ that got left on his tables. He was done with Hollywood, done with acting. 

It seemed, however, he wasn’t quite ready to quit Victor.

Victor had the takeout box out of the bag and had opened it, positioning chopsticks expertly between his fingers and snapping them idly as he peered down at the dish. “It’s some kind of fried meat? Over rice?”

“Pork cutlet. _Katsudon_ is a pork cutlet bowl. Well, obviously it’s not served in a bowl, since it’s to go—it really is much better served hot in the restaurant.” _God, Yuuri, shut up already._

Victor had selected some breaded pork coated with egg, rice clinging to the bottom, dotted with peas and nibbled curiously at the offering. Then his eyes widened. “ _Vkusno_!” His blue eyes danced with delight as he lifted the styrofoam container and began to eat wolfishly, barely pausing to breathe, though he did manage to exclaim further joy over his meal between bites. “This is amazing. I’ve never tasted anything like this. Is it what the gods eat?”

Yuuri’s chest burst with pride at Victor’s praise for his mother’s cooking. “Katsudon is my favorite. And my mother’s is the best.”

Victor paused, regarding Yuuri as he chewed the bite in his mouth. Then, after wiping a stray grain of rice from the corner of his mouth, he arranged a healthy bite of pork cutlet, egg, rice, and peas—and held it out for Yuuri.

“I couldn’t,” Yuuri said, unsure why his refusal came out in a whisper.

“I want to share this delicious meal with you.” Victor brushed the greasy meat against Yuuri’s lips, his wicked gaze sending shivers down Yuuri’s spine. “Come, Yuuri. Take a bite.”

It smelled so good. So did Victor. Yuuri’s hand curled against the table, an impotent resistance. “I should…be going.”

Victor raised an eyebrow. “But you just said you could stay and sit with me.”

 _This was before I thought I might embarrass myself by getting an erection while you fed me part of your dinner._ Obviously Yuuri couldn’t say that. He couldn’t say anything, really. 

So he opened his mouth and let Victor feed him katsudon.

Yuuri meant to take the bite quickly, to snatch the food from the chopsticks and back away, as far away as possible. Victor, however, had other ideas. As Yuuri tried to take the bite, Victor drew back, enough that Yuuri had to lean forward to follow it—and then, while he was busy chasing the food, Victor’s hand stole out to cup his chin. It was only a light touch, as if to steady him, but the contact surprised Yuuri, and he startled. Then, when Victor’s long, delicate fingers stroked his jaw, the slope of his neck, he moaned around his food.

Victor didn’t release him, nor did he stop touching Yuuri as he chewed. If anything, the more Yuuri melted and shuddered, the bolder Victor became. “You saddened me, Yuuri, when you left without a word. Without so much as leaving your number.”

It took everything in Yuuri not to choke. Victor…had wanted Yuuri to leave his number when he left the movie? That made no sense. It was the sort of thing he’d always dreamed of, yes—God, he’d gone to sleep every night as a teenager, breathless and starry-eyed, staring at posters of Victor, dreaming of the day they’d share the same screen. When Victor would see him, _see_ him and…and…and what, exactly, Yuuri had never been quite sure, not until he’d been older. And then he’d been too embarrassed to finish the thought. Noble Victor was not for such tawdry sexual fantasies.

Except as Victor’s blue eyes bore into him, his fingers tucking Yuuri’s errant bangs behind his ears…Yuuri was forced to acknowledge that perhaps it was time to rethink that position. 

His stomach was still full of butterflies, though, and so when Victor poured two more glasses of vodka and passed one of them to Yuuri, Yuuri accepted it without a word, downing it with the same speed he’d taken in the first few glasses. Then he poured himself another round, and then another after that. When he finally set his glass down, he noticed Victor regarding him with admiration.

“You can certainly put away your alcohol, I’ll grant you that.”

Said alcohol was flowing freely through Yuuri now, loosening the bands of terror and making inroads on the laces of inhibition keeping him from doing things like, say, giving into the impulse to touch the center of Victor’s adorable silver head when he leaned forward. “My father’s side of the family is from Kyushu.” He realized that might not mean much to a Russian-born actor and decided he should elaborate. “I can…get a bit wild, if I don’t watch how much I drink. But if I go that far, I tend not to remember what happened, either. Which is almost just as bad, at times.”

Victor stilled, regarding Yuuri intently, as if the piece of a puzzle had just been handed to him. “I see. Tell me, Yuuri. Have you and I ever drank together like this before?”

Yuuri lifted his eyebrows and laughed. “Um, I think I’d remember _that_ , thank you.”

If anything, Victor became more intense, his expression more inscrutable. He gripped the vodka bottle tightly, sliding it out of Yuuri’s reach. “Out of curiosity, how much do you have to drink before you reach this wild, amnesiac state?”

It was beginning to dawn on Yuuri how _good_ that vodka truly was. He wished Victor hadn’t taken it away from him. He wondered if he could get it back? Grinning, he popped his foot out of his shoe and ran it along the outside of Victor’s leg. “Oh, quite a bit, I’m sure. Let’s have another round, shall we?”

Victor’s face fell, which wasn’t the reaction Yuuri had been going for at all. “Oh no. You’re already there, aren’t you? It’s going to happen again. You’re going to jump into my lap, confess wicked, breathless things to me, and then in the morning you’ll vanish like a puff of smoke and have no memory of ever having said them at all. Is that right?”

Yuuri frowned, not having the slightest clue of what Victor was talking about. He hadn’t ever been in Victor’s lap. Had he? He’d be far too shy to do something like that, let alone confess wicked or breathless things.

Except he didn’t feel shy right now. Right now Yuuri felt amazing, and bold, and…incredibly horny. And until a few minutes ago, Victor had been looking at him like that too. Now he was looking at him with despair, which was…confusing, and annoying.

What had he said? Jump into his lap? Yuuri could do that.

“It sounds like a good plan,” he said, giggling as he stumbled around the corner of the table, almost knocking Victor’s glass over as he tried to climb aboard. He wasn’t entirely sure what plan he was signing up for anymore, as his brain was feeling _awfully_ fuzzy, but Victor was involved in the plan, and he was going to be on Victor’s lap, so this couldn’t be all bad.

“ _No._ ”

One minute Yuuri was climbing onto Victor, the next he lay flat on his back on top of the table, a flush-faced, intense Victor looming over him.

“No,” Victor repeated, sounding as if he were attempting to convince himself as much as Yuuri. “No. We’re not doing this again. You’re going to sober up, and then we’re going to have a conversation. You and me.” His gaze softened, and his hand, as if it could not stop itself, stroked Yuuri’s cheek, trailed down his neck. “No matter how much I want you.”

Yuuri’s heart soared, and he beamed drunkenly at the man looming over him, the man he’d wanted for as long as he could remember. “I want you too, Victor,” he slurred.

Then he wrapped his arms around Victor’s neck—and his legs around his waist—and kissed him for all he was worth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tune in next time to watch poor Victor attempt to be noble, while drunk!Yuuri says _we'll see about that, mister._ Probably tomorrow, unless my life throws something at my head, which? It might do.
> 
> Also I'm not really editing for shit here, so all my apologies. For someone who usually spends thousands of dollars getting that shit right, I feel really gross just farting stuff out there, but whatever, man. C'est la vie.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Perhaps I shouldn’t want you that way. I’ve wondered if I should put those feelings aside and simply admire you as a role model, and if I’m lucky, as a teacher.”  
> Victor cupped Yuuri’s face with both hands, his chest tight and aching. “And what of my feelings? What if I told you, Yuuri, that I wanted to be more than your role model and your teacher?”  
> Cheeks flushed, Yuuri glanced up at Victor through the fringe of his lashes. “What more do you want to be?”  
> Victor had thrown down with studio executives and been less terrified than he was right now. He stroked Yuuri’s cheek, his fingers trembling despite his best efforts. “Your lover.”

Yuuri Katsuki tasted of expensive vodka, katsudon, and memory.

For months Victor had lain awake in his condo playing that one, incredible night at the Crispino party over and over in his mind. The way Yuuri Katsuki, who had captivated him well enough as an expressive if hesitant actor working bit parts in Hollywood and any production that had a dance sequence, had suddenly burned up the dance floor and grabbed Victor by his tie, dragging him along. Victor had gone willingly, doing his best to keep up, until Yuuri danced them into a corner and thrust his tongue down Victor’s throat and ground into him, driving them both into a frenzy. They’d been interrupted by Michele coming down the stairs, calling for his sister, and before Victor could find them somewhere more private to continue their assignation, Yuuri had vanished. After that, he’d never seen him again, and no matter how Victor searched, he couldn’t find where his errant dance partner had gone. He seemed to have vanished into thin air. “Even Cinderella left a damn glass slipper,” he’d complained to Chris.

Yuuri Katsuki, it seemed, left a trail of katsudon.  

Now here Yuuri was, back in Victor’s arms again, and it was the Crispino party all over again. This time it was Victor pressing into Yuuri, but it didn’t matter. Yuuri was the one who drove the kiss, threading his fingers into Victor’s hair, tugging him closer, hooking his ankles tighter as he pressed his hips into Victor’s. Victor moaned into his mouth, trembling as he felt Yuuri’s erection against his own. He tried to lift up and move away from the contact, but Yuuri only followed him, tugging him closer with the strength of his legs. When Victor gasped, Yuuri drew Victor’s lower lip into his mouth and sucked on it until Victor surrendered with a whimper, collapsing against him. 

“You taste so good.” Yuuri nibbled at his lip before diving deeper, his hands roving down Victor’s back, tugging the tails of his shirt from his trousers. “I’ve wanted to kiss you my whole life.”

Victor needed to stop where this was going, he knew that, but he was too weak, both figuratively and literally. He couldn’t break free from Yuuri’s iron leg grip, and he didn’t want to stop those wicked fingers that had made their way underneath his waistband. He pressed his forehead on the tabletop and took deep breaths as Yuuri made love to his neck. “Yuuri…you’re too drunk for this. We need to stop.”

“It’s fine. I’d never do this sober.”

Wasn’t that what Victor had just said? “Yuuri…”

“Oh, God.” Yuuri slipped both hands into Victor’s trousers, which had somehow become unbuttoned, and palmed his ass. “Say my name again.”

The feeling of Yuuri’s palms on his bare skin shook Victor to his core. “ _Yuuri_.”

“ _Victor_.” Yuuri nuzzled Victor’s ear, nibbled the lobe. “I want you, Victor. Not because you’re a movie star. But because you’re Victor.”

Victor shuddered for a different reason now. This is what Yuuri had said to him last time. His heart turned over. He nuzzled Yuuri back.

Yuuri continued to knead his ass, and he kept talking. “Because of the way you approach your craft. The way you take your art so seriously. You started so young, but you were so strong, and so talented, you were able to overcome the odds.”

This confession came out slurred and hesitant, less elegant this time than the first time Victor had heard it. He’d meant to let Yuuri keep going, but he couldn’t help himself. He had to repeat his own lines in this play. “And is that why you want me? Because of my talent?”

“No.” Yuuri’s hand shifted between them and Victor gasped as Yuuri took his erection in hand. “That part is more complicated.” 

But then the play changed—at the Crispinos, Yuuri had kissed him for the first time then, and Victor’s world had spun away. Now, however, Yuuri let him go, not only of his erection, but he withdrew his other hand too, and his heels fell down as well. Victor lifted his head to see what was wrong and discovered Yuuri’s face flushed, his gaze cast downward.

“Perhaps I shouldn’t want you that way. I’ve wondered if I should put those feelings aside and simply admire you as a role model, and if I’m lucky, as a teacher.”

Victor cupped Yuuri’s face with both hands, his chest tight and aching. “And what of my feelings? What if I told you, Yuuri, that I wanted to be more than your role model and your teacher?”

Cheeks flushed, Yuuri glanced up at Victor through the fringe of his lashes. “What more do you want to be?”

Victor had thrown down with studio executives and been less terrified than he was right now. He stroked Yuuri’s cheek, his fingers trembling despite his best efforts. “Your lover.”

Yuuri’s smile was like the sun. It filled Victor with warmth, and it had gravity too, drawing him into another kiss, this one deeper than the first. This time he didn’t fight. This time he helped Yuuri along, seeking skin with his fingers as he mapped Yuuri’s mouth, learning every curve, every line. He sucked gently on his upper lip, shuddering but not fighting him when Yuuri took him in hand once more, this time lining his own erection alongside Victor’s.

“We should move to a bed,” Victor murmured into Yuuri’s neck, forgetting every promise he made to himself about not making love to Yuuri until he was sober. _If I take my time and move slowly enough, he’ll sober up eventually,_ he reasoned. “I don’t want our first encounter to be on a dining room table.”

“Why not? It sounds delicious.” He laughed wickedly, nipping Victor’s shoulder. “Or maybe against a wall. I’d love you to take me against the wall.” 

Victor, who had been bracing himself against his elbow, collapsed onto Yuuri, his appendages suddenly turned to jello.

Yuuri purred into his ear, then licked it. “Hmm. Or maybe I should be the one to take you?”

Victor’s belly clutched in want, but also in fear. “You’re going to forget all of this. I can’t take that again, Yuuri.”

Yuuri stroked his face, appearing as serious as someone very drunk can be. “I won’t forget anything. I promise.”

“I somehow doubt it’s in your control.” A terrible thought occurred to Victor. “What if you sober up and decide you don’t want any of this?”

“I want you drunk _and_ sober,” Yuuri insisted.

“So you’d tell me you wanted to fuck me against the wall sober, would you?”

Yuuri laughed. “No, I would not.” He ran a foot up Victor’s leg. “But I’d _want_ to.”

Victor traced the outline of Yuuri’s glasses, wishing he could better read the mind of the man before him. “Won’t you be angry at me, though, if I take advantage of you when you’re drunk and I’m not?”

Yuuri brightened. “That’s all you’re worried about? _Easy solution._ ” He arched his back and twisted his body until he could reach the vodka bottle, which he grabbed and thrust into Victor’s hands. “Here. Hurry and get drunk.”

Victor pushed the bottle away. “No. Then you’ll get away from me when I’m not looking.”

“I don’t want to leave you. I want you, remember?”

Victor glared at him, not moving an inch on this issue.

Yuuri glared back, until abruptly he pushed Victor off of him, clearly possessed of an idea. “Hold on—I’ll be right back. _I promise_ ,” he said, when Victor began to object. When Victor remained unconvinced, Yuuri sighed, kicked off his shoes, put his keys, his wallet, and his phone on the table. “There. I can’t get anywhere now.”

Victor was still uneasy. “If you’re not back in five minutes, I’m coming looking for you.”

Yuuri gave him a drunken salute and disappeared through the door. 

Victor paced a hole in the floor while he was gone, and despite what he’d said about not wanting to get drunk, he put away a few more shots of vodka to calm his nerves. He was being ridiculous, he knew, but he couldn’t help it. He’d been barely able to work since losing track of Yuuri. He’d barely been able to live, largely because somehow those few precious hours with Yuuri had woken him up to realizing how barely alive he was anymore. 

He’d been with Yuuri for a half an hour, and all the colors had come back into the world again. He couldn’t let that get away. Especially not when he knew the odds were good that when Yuuri’s vodka wore off, he was likely to disappear again, this time perhaps for good.

Yuuri wasn’t even gone five minutes, though, before he returned just as he promised. He had something behind his back, something in a black satin sack, but he wouldn’t show Victor until he’d taken two more shots of vodka, and even after that, he made Victor shut his eyes and hold out his hands.

At this point Victor had consumed enough vodka he was amused, not annoyed. “What in the world did you—”  

Cold metal circled his wrist and clinked closed with a soft, metallic _snick_.

Victor’s eyes flew open, just in time to see the second half of the handcuff close around Yuuri’s wrist.

Yuuri grinned and held up his hand, which of course meant Victor’s hand came up too. “There. Now you don’t have to worry. Drink all you want. I can’t get away.” His gaze darkened as he ran a fingertip down the center of Victor’s chest. “And neither can you.”

Victor’s heart skipped a beat and his universe shifted its orbit. “ _Yuuri._ ”

Yuuri winked at him. “Did you know there’s a party going on out there? And that they’re dancing? I’m a pretty good dancer, you know. You should come dance with me.”

Forget beating. Victor’s heart opened the cavity of his chest, strolled out, and walked bold as you please into the other man’s arms. “I’d love to.”

Yuuri beamed. He poured Victor another round of vodka which he dutifully drank down, then led him by his handcuffed hand out of the dining room and into the din of the party.

Victor followed, the vodka blurring the edges of his common sense, setting him free to follow Yuuri wherever it was he planned to take him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> REALLY didn't edit this time, sorry if anything sucks.
> 
> As usual I thought this was going to be shorter than it's going to end up being, but I can feel this wanting a third act and a "dark moment" (I use scare quotes because it's all relative in this, and it's not gonna get terribly dark) so it's going to go longer than I thought.
> 
> I'd write more tonight, but I'm really caught up in Junjo Romantica scans at the moment--goddamn there being no more English translations--and if I do anything more tonight, I need to go give some posts to my patrons, to whom I owe many, many things. But some of them will be happy to see this too, so.
> 
> Also at some point I need to do a newsletter and point out to the world things that have happened in the paying job, but oh, it's so much more fun to make Victor and Yuuri boink and not actually edit shit.
> 
> A final note: I'm eating my incredibly late and poor choice, lazy author dinner of instant potatoes and instant brown gravy out of my YOI donburi bowl which came the other day. It was going to be ramen, but I don't have any, so potatoes it is.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just thinking about the way dream Victor’s mouth had trailed down the center of his chest, his hands expertly sliding Yuuri’s jeans down until he could get at his underwear and then his erection—well, Yuuri had an erection again. Breath catching, he shifted in bed and reached for himself.
> 
> Metal clinked, and someone else’s hand came along with his own.
> 
> Yuuri froze, terror filling him as it dawned on him that perhaps, mad as it might sound, it had not, in fact, been a dream…

Yuuri woke with a pounding headache, but he was smiling too, because he’d had the most wonderful dream.

He couldn’t remember much of it, only bits and flashes—but the key feature had been Victor Nikiforov. It was an _insane_ dream, something about him dancing half-naked in Christophe Giacometti’s mansion while handcuffed to Victor’s wrist while everyone cheered them on. And all the while Victor kept touching him, kissing him, making Yuuri look him in the eye as he held his face with both hands and said, over and over, “You can’t forget this time. You can’t forget.”

Yuuri had promised in the dream, also over and over, that he would not forget. Dream Victor had plied him with glass after glass of water, which eventually meant he had to go with him to the bathroom—there had been a fight then, Yuuri was fairly sure, rather articulate for a dream—but it had ended in a kiss against the door, one that melted Yuuri’s brain. Once he’d taken care of business with Victor at arm’s reach away, the kiss had resumed and become something more in the bedroom just off the bathroom. 

Just thinking about the way dream Victor’s mouth had trailed down the center of his chest, his hands expertly sliding Yuuri’s jeans down until he could get at his underwear and then his erection—well, Yuuri had an erection again. Breath catching, he shifted in bed and reached for himself.

Metal clinked, and someone else’s hand came along with his own.

Yuuri froze, terror filling him as it dawned on him that perhaps, mad as it might sound, it had not, in fact, been a dream…

No sooner did that thought flit through his mind, however, than he slammed the lid fast on such ridiculousness. Obviously he had _not_ gone to bed with Victor. He didn’t even know Victor. Clearly he’d gotten drunk and gone home with someone, yes, and that was terrifying, almost as terrifying as the handcuffs—but not quite—but no way was the person whose hand was chained to his— _oh God_ —Victor Nikiforov’s.

“Yuuri.”

Yuuri’s eyes opened just in time to see Victor Nikiforov fill his vision, leaning on the elbow of their joined hands, meaning Yuuri’s arm came along helplessly, flopping like a rag doll until Victor caught his fingers and laced them with his own. When Yuuri gasped and tried to withdraw, Victor sighed and gazed sadly at him. 

“You’ve forgotten again, haven’t you? You don’t remember anything about the time we spent together.”

Yuuri could barely breathe. “I…I thought it had to be a dream.”

Victor trapped Yuuri’s fingers more tightly in his own, then leaned over to kiss Yuuri’s knuckles. “It wasn’t a dream.”

Yuuri stared at the place where Victor’s mouth had been, his mind tripping over itself as it tried to make sense of this madness. “H-how?” _Why_? He turned his head to the side, wincing at the pain, but he might as well have saved himself the trouble. He didn’t know where he was. “Where…where am I?”

“We’re at Chris’s place.” Victor watched him so closely, so intensely. “Tell me what you remember.”

Yuuri’s face heated as his mind replayed the hazy memory of Victor smiling at him before kissing his way down Yuuri’s chest, laving his abdomen with his tongue and then—Yuuri covered his face with his free hand. “I—I can’t,” he whispered.

He jolted as Victor’s fingers skimmed over his midsection. “Did you remember this?” They traveled lazily toward Yuuri’s nipple, teasing them into erect, sensitive points as Yuuri gasped. “Perhaps this?”

“I don’t…I don’t understand.” Yuuri shut his eyes again, whispering as he shivered under Victor’s touch. “How…how am I here, with you, like this?”

Victor ghosted his fingers across the planes of Yuuri’s chest, tracing the curve of his shoulder, the slope of his neck. “Do you remember bringing a food delivery for Chris?”

Yuuri thought a moment. “I…yes? Wait. Yes. Did he call and beg me to bring him katsudon?” That made _some_ sense at least. “Chris came by our restaurant a few weeks ago and he’s already a regular. I think he promised me a big tip if I brought him a delivery, which we don’t normally do, but honestly, he’s such a good customer, and anyway, he’s Christophe Gia—” 

He stopped talking when Victor bent to kiss the center of his chest. Stared down at the top of Victor’s silver head, had the oddest urge to touch the center of his part, but before he could wonder where that odd thought came from, Victor lifted his head and gave Yuuri such a look he melted into the mattress. All but one part of him.

“The katsudon was for me,” Victor said, his accent a little thicker than usual. “Do you remember _that_ part?”

It was difficult to think, with Victor staring at him like that. But…yes, Yuuri did remember, a little. Victor had opened the door, and he’s been surprised. They’d gone into a dining room, and Yuuri and been nervous, and Victor offered him vodka— _ah_. He winced. “Oh. I had too much to drink. Did…did I do something ridiculous, when I was drunk?” He glanced at the handcuffs and his stomach curdled. “Never mind. Obviously I made a fool of myself. I’m sorry—”

He stopped talking when Victor pressed two fingers over his lips. “You didn’t make a fool of yourself, nor did you do anything ridiculous. You danced, laughed, and you made me incredibly happy to be with you.” When Yuuri looked meaningfully at the handcuffs again, Victor smiled. “They were your idea, but it was because I was so concerned that, having had too much to drink, you would forget what happened between us and leave me again, and to keep me from being too upset, to show me you wouldn’t leave because you _couldn’t_ leave, you handcuffed the two of us together. And then you danced with me all night long. And made me laugh. You gave me a wonderful evening, Yuuri. I hope you remember even a small part of it. And I hope you don’t demand the key to the handcuffs and run away from me.”

Oh, Yuuri wanted to—except… “What do you mean, leave you _again_?”

The look on Victor’s face was dangerously enigmatic. “It means exactly that. Let’s play the _do you remember_ game again: the Crispino party last month? You recall attending?”

Good God, _that_ nightmare? It was just after he’d fired Celestino and quit the movie, vowing he was done with acting for good, but Phichit had insisted he needed to go to the party as a farewell gesture. Miserable, Yuuri had taken solace in champagne. He’d woken in a strange bed there too—or rather, a strange broom closet. Mortified, he’d slipped out of the house in the predawn hours, spent the last of his money on a cab ride to his parents’ place in Encino, and swore he was never looking back. 

As if he could say this to Victor, though. He rubbed his cheek, hoping it wasn’t as flushed as if felt. “I remember going there, but not much else. Sorry. This isn’t a habit of mine, I swear.”

Victor ignored this. “At the Celestino party, you danced. Beautifully. You asked me to dance, and you were so charming I couldn’t say no.” When Yuuri tried to cover his face, Victor pulled his hand away, made him look him in the eye. “You were a delight. I had an amazing evening with you.”

Yuuri wanted the bed to swallow him and suck him into the center of the earth. “I was a drunken idiot!”

“You were a charming, handsome wonder, and you swept me off my feet.” Victor’s expression turned sad. “Then you disappeared, and I never saw you again. I glimpsed you a few times at the studio, but you didn’t so much as meet my gaze, and before I could recover from the shock of that, I never saw you again. Not until Chris produced you with a bag of katsudon.”

Yuuri couldn’t breathe. He…he’d _blanked Victor Nikiforov_? Who had found him _charming_? “I…I didn’t know you knew who I was. That I knew who you were.” He winced. God, he sounded insane.

“I understand that now.” Victor smoothed hair away from Yuuri’s forehead. “Do you dance as much sober as you do drunk? Because I would love to try an evening like that sometime where you remember all of it.”

“I do enjoy dancing, yes.” Yuuri thought of how he must have behaved and added, abashed, “Usually with more decorum. I teach ballet with my mother’s friend at her studio in Encino. But I go out with Phichit to the clubs, sometimes, when he coaxes me into going.”

“Could I coax you into the clubs sometime?”

The very idea made Yuuri shiver with forbidden delight. “I…I think we would start several scandals. Your agent wouldn’t be pleased.”

“Yakov is never pleased.” Victor shifted his position so he was half over Yuuri, the sheet between them, yet his bare leg moving against Yuuri’s leg, letting him know Victor was as naked as he was. “Yuuri, why did you leave acting? You have such promise as an actor.”

Yuuri shook his head, turning his face away. “I don’t. I get too flustered, too overwhelmed. Besides, Hollywood doesn’t like my accent.”

“You don’t have hardly an accent at all! And when you read your lines, it disappears far more than mine.”

Yuuri shrugged. “Russian accents are sexy.”

“Japanese accents are sexy too.”

Yuuri couldn’t help it—he smiled. “Stop teasing.” But he gasped when Victor shifted again, this time pressing his body flush against Yuuri’s. “ _Victor_.”

“Yes. Quite sexy. The more flustered you are, the more accent you have. Shall I make you very flustered, Yuuri?” He bent and nuzzled Yuuri’s neck, sliding Yuuri’s knees apart to settle himself between them. 

Yuuri gasped and grasped for Victor’s shoulders, but he could only do so with one hand, as the other only tangled with Victor’s. This hand Victor drew between their bodies, teasing Yuuri’s thighs until he found their erections between the sheet. Yuuri moaned and pushed into his hand, the hand trapped in the cuff clawing helplessly at Victor’s flesh.

Victor nipped and licked at Yuuri’s neck. “Do you want this, Yuuri? Do you want me to make love to you now?”

Yes, oh yes, Yuuri did. But fear lapped at him, fear and confusion, pushing him once more out of his pleasure. “Victor…I don’t understand…why…why do you want _me_?”

Victor pressed a kiss on the soft spot just before Yuuri’s ear. “Because when I’m with you I don’t feel alone. Because you told me that first night you believed we were soul mates, and I think you were right. Ever since then, I haven’t felt right, except for last night, and now. And the idea that you might leave me again makes me ache more than I can say.”

“But it’s only me,” Yuuri whispered.

“There is no _only_ you,” Victor whispered back, and kissed him.

Yuuri trembled beneath the pressure of Victor’s lips, under the weight of his confession. As Victor’s tongue stole inside his mouth, as Yuuri opened for him, for a moment his brain seized with terror, realizing who this was kissing him. Then that melted away as the moment took over. As the hand on his erection stroked more insistently. As Victor’s knees pushed his legs wider, until Yuuri set his feet flat on the mattress and let Victor position him as he wanted him. When Victor’s mouth left his and made its way down his body, pausing to taste his nipples, to swirl his tongue in Yuuri’s navel, Yuuri shut his eyes and let himself be an offering to Victor’s desires. Whatever this man wanted of him, he could have.

He had told Victor he thought they were soul mates, and Victor had agreed. Yuuri should have been mortified. Instead he felt…emboldened. 

When Victor’s mouth closed over Yuuri’s cock, Yuuri threaded his fingers through that silver hair and urged him into a rhythm, throwing his head back and groaning out his pleasure as Victor took him deeper and deeper into his throat.

He gasped when Victor’s mouth traveled further south again, laving his hole, creating another awkward moment with the handcuffs as he opened him wide, then making Yuuri cry out as he flicked his tongue against the tender, heated skin. Memory flashed again—they had done this the night before, but with Yuuri kneeling. Victor’s face pressed between his cheeks as Yuuri held himself open. Yuuri shuddered, both from recollection of what Victor had done to him then and what he did to him now. When Victor came back up to his mouth, his kiss musky and raw, Yuuri trembled, nibbling at his lips as he came further undone.

“I want to fuck you.” Victor held Yuuri’s lower lip gently in his teeth before letting go. “Will you let me, Yuuri?”

Yuuri would let this man take him to the moon and back. “Please.”

“Put your leg against my shoulder.” Victor’s eyes widened with how easily Yuuri carried out this command. “You’re quite flexible.”

“Dancing,” Yuuri reminded him, then shut his eyes on a sharp intake of breath as Victor’s lubricated finger breached him.

“There’s so many interesting things we could do with your flexible body, in bed.” Victor kissed Yuuri’s jawline as he penetrated Yuuri more deeply. “Will you make love to me again? Will you let me see you again?”

Two fingers in him now. Yuuri pressed his heels into the mattress and nuzzled Victor’s face. “Yes.”

Victor nibbled Yuuri’s chin as he worked a third finger inside. “Will you stay with me, Yuuri?”

“ _Yes_.”

In Yuuri’s most daring moments, which were not often, he had thought what it would be like to make love to Victor Nikiforov. The reality shattered the wildest of his dreams and scattered them like dust at his feet. It was not so much the talent of his lovemaking—though there was plenty to be said there—but the tenderness which struck Yuuri the most. The way Victor blew his mind and cracked open his heart all at the same time. 

The way he was, somehow, exactly as Yuuri had thought—hoped—he would be, and yet ten thousand times more interesting and wonderful than he’d dared to dream. So much more real.

 _Stay with me_.

As if Yuuri would willingly let him go.

Victor drove him slowly, maddeningly to a climax—by the end Yuuri was pleading with him in Japanese, Victor soothing him in Russian. Victor made him get on his knees, wrapped his body around him and drove into him from behind to finish him, moving Yuuri with just enough friction against the sheets that he came too, with Victor whispering in his ear.

“I think I could love you, Yuri Katsuki.”

They lay in bed a long time together afterward, nuzzling and kissing softly. In the distance Yuuri could hear helicopters, and seagulls, and other daytime sounds of Malibu. He supposed eventually he would have to get up and return to the real world, to his regular life.

Victor seemed to read his mind. “When can I see you again?” He stroked Yuuri’s arm. “Tonight?”

Yuuri laughed. “I work tonight.”

“Perhaps I’m in the mood for Japanese, then.” He nipped Yuuri’s hair. “I might have some food, too.”

Yuuri laughed again, swatting at him. But he hoped Victor did come. He would introduce his family. Would it be strange, he wondered? He hoped not. He’d take Victor to the private part of the restaurant and let him eat in private, and then when the store was closed, they could all sit together, get to know one another…

He turned to the window, frowning. “Are the helicopters always so loud in Malibu?”

Beside him, Victor tensed. “ _Shit._ ” He grabbed the blanket, pulled them over their head, and shouted, his voice full of rage and fear, “ _Chris, we have a problem_.”

The door to the bedroom opened, slamming against the wall, and Chris began to swear. “Nikiforov, you left the curtains open? What in the _hell_ were you thinking?” Yuuri heard the sound of fabric on rods being violently pulled, and then Chris sighed. “You can come out, but I think it’s already too late. I saw a telephoto.”

Yuuri pushed the blanket off his head and blinked at Chris, who stood at the closed blinds wearing a red velvet quilted robe. For the first time since Yuuri had met him, he wasn’t smiling. “What…what do you mean, you saw a—” 

Understanding dawned, and Yuuri felt sick.

Victor’s accent was thick as he spoke. “Figure out who it was, and I’ll buy the photos.”

“They won’t sell them to you, darling. It’s too good of a scoop. Bachelor Victor Nikiforov caught in bed with mystery man.” Chris’s laugh was bitter. “It’s too bad you’ve quit show business, Yuuri. Because you’re about to be in _all_ the papers.”

Papers. _Tabloids._  

Somewhere beside Yuuri Victor spoke, saying something soothing, but Yuuri couldn’t hear him. He could only stare at the curtain where, somewhere beyond it floating in the sky, was a helicopter and a camera full of photos that he was fairly sure were about to end his perfect relationship before it even had a chance to start.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longer one this time!
> 
> I think there are about two scenes left. Probably. But maybe three.
> 
> So, if I were writing this properly, at this point I'd go back and edit to make the stakes sweeter, to make sure it was clear the last thing in the world Yuuri would ever want was to be photographed by the paparazzi, so that this was more of an OH NOES moment, but this is a write as you go don't look down thing, so here we are. And honestly if I went back and tried to edit I'd end up making this longer and more complicated and I'm writing this ESCAPING editing so let's not, hey.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "...unfortunately this circus is a part of me too. I won’t fault you if you decide that’s not something you’re interested in. I’ll be disappointed, and sad, but I won’t blame you.”  
> Victor tried to draw away, to withdraw into himself, but Yuuri captured his hand. When Victor turned to him, surprised, he saw Yuuri gazing at him with a determined expression. Lacing their fingers together, Yuuri drew Victor towards him so that their foreheads touched.   
> “What do you think of me, that I would give up on you so easily, having just found you?”

Victor took one look at Yuuri’s face and knew it was over. 

The desperate part of him that wanted to believe in fairytales whispered no, he was just being jaded, Yuuri was only in shock, but it was a faint grasp at a thin straw. Yuuri was in shock, yes, but he was also horrified. Wondering what kind of pictures had been taken of him. What he’d been doing. Whether or not they’d captured his face. Whether or not his friends and family were going to see him plastered over the gossip rags with his name linked to Victor’s. See him _naked_ and having sex in the gossip rags.

Victor hadn’t even managed to get in a formal date with the man of his dreams, and he was already gone.

_I’m so sorry, Yuuri. For both of us._

Chris clapped his hands twice, breaking the stunned spell of his guests. “No need to panic, either of you. Yuuri, we’re going to walk you through this, every step of the way. No matter what happens, we’re here with you, and we’ll have your back. We’ll help you, promise. Victor, you know the drill, what you both need to do right now. Separate, lay low, and don’t meet in person right away. Your phones are safe enough, though Yuuri, watch your social media accounts, and change all your passwords everywhere. You might tell your family and friends to do the same.”

The way Yuuri flinched made Victor want to die. He hadn’t been wrong. He could see Yuuri pulling away from him before his very eyes.

Chris came up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder. “Calm down,” he said sotto voce into Victor’s ear.

Victor said nothing. How could he calm, when he was losing everything?

He tried to tell himself he was overreacting, that this was simply a lark, this relationship, and perhaps it was best it ended now, that he didn’t need the distraction. It was the same kind of logic he’d attempted to use on himself when he’d met and lost Yuuri the first time, and it worked about as well now as it had then. Yuuri was right. There was something about them that called out to one another. 

But could whatever it was survive their fragile introduction being shattered by such crude exposure? Victor couldn’t imagine how. And he couldn’t blame Yuuri if he wanted to step away from the man who thrust him into this mess, willing or not.

Chris was, as ever, a rock. He undid their handcuffs, then coached Yuuri into a bath and Victor into a shower in a bathroom down the hall, and while they cleaned themselves up, he made phone calls. When they were both dressed, he gave them the update in the living room, where all the blinds were drawn tight. “My housekeeper’s son is coming over with his SUV. They’re going to pick up some laundry to take to service, and you’re going to be in that laundry, Katsuki. A bit old school, but I thought it less obvious than rolling you in a rug. You’re going to actually go to a laundry, too, but you won’t leave the SUV. The SUV will then make several other boring stops before returning to my housekeeper’s residence, where, in the garage, you’ll switch vehicles and enter the car you’ll use to get to your family’s restaurant. Enter the restaurant with the party as if you mean to eat with them—once you’re inside, you’re on your own, but I think by then we’ll have gone far overkill. If you see cameras outside the restaurant, you’ll know you were made already. If not, you either got lucky or they’re playing a longer game. I’ll keep you posted via text as I know more.”

Yuuri nodded, eyes wide. He still looked like he was in shock. “This…this is like a movie.”

“Yes, except it’s not fun and none of us are getting paid.” Chris patted him on the shoulder. “But don’t worry, like I said. We have your back.” He nodded at Victor. “You have to decide how you want to play this. Do you want to distract, put someone else on your arm? Do you want to deny it, ignore it? Or do you want to prepare some kind of controlled release and announce your relationship to the press? I assume it’s a little early for that, since the two of you are just getting to know one another, but I thought—”

Victor’s heart broke all over again at the panic in Yuuri’s expression when Chris suggested they announce their relationship. He held up his hand and silenced his friend. “Can you give us a minute?”

Chris caught the look on Yuuri’s face too, and nodded with a sad, curt smile. “Sure. Take all the time you need.”

As soon as they were alone, though, Victor realized he didn’t know what to say. He gazed at Yuuri, heartsick, searching for words that would make him stay, knowing they didn’t exist. 

Eventually Yuuri broke the silence. He stared down at his hands, where his thumbs were nervously chasing one another. “I…I’m sorry. This caught me by surprise.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.” Victor shut his eyes, drew a breath, and forced the words he knew he had to say out of his mouth. “It’s all right, Yuuri, if you want to cut ties with me. I understand.”

“ _What_?” The force of Yuuri’s disbelief made Victor’s eyes flash back open, and hope flared dimly at the shock he saw in his lover’s face. “Cut ties with you? Why—why would I want to do that?”

 _You have to explain it to him. You have to make it clear to him, even if it hurts._ Every word felt like pulling a knife out of Victor’s chest. “Because they’re going to hound you if we date publicly. I won’t lie, I had fantasies of doing that someday, but I knew first we needed to be discreet, that you needed time to acclimate to my world. I know you’re not new to acting, but you are to celebrity. I won’t lie, most days I enjoy it. But it can be brutal on new relationships. The rules are that everything about _me_ is fair game, but somehow if you associate with me, now your life is fair game too—which isn’t right, and shouldn’t be in the rules.” His heart felt so heavy. He touched Yuuri’s wrist, where the handcuffs had been. “I’m sorry. I should have been thinking, about the curtains. It’s my fault.”

“You were handcuffed to me. You had to have been as hungover as I was. Of course it wasn’t your fault.” Yuuri’s face flushed with anger. “And maybe they shouldn’t have been flying around with telephoto lenses aimed at people’s _bedrooms_. Aren’t there laws about those sorts of things?”

Yes, and no. Laws and rules, and grey areas, and magazine covers. Victor threaded his fingers through his hair as he drew Yuuri gently but firmly back to the issue at hand. “The fact remains, Yuuri, that if you are with me now, even if we try to keep our relationship secret, the odds are high we’ll be outed. I’m perfectly fine with that if you are. But it will mean you’ll be pulling your blinds all the time now, and that you’ll have photos snapped of you in the supermarket. That you’ll have difficulty working a shift at your family’s restaurant—though they’ll likely have booming business, whether or not you’re there. You’d have renewed interest in your acting career to a degree, at first, and I could help you capitalize on that if you liked. But there would be no private walks on the beach for us, or casual coffee house dates. Which granted would have been difficult enough before. But they’ll be impossible now. You say you’re attracted to the true me, and I believe you—but unfortunately this circus is a part of me too. I won’t fault you if you decide that’s not something you’re interested in. I’ll be disappointed, and sad, but I won’t blame you.”

Victor tried to draw away, to withdraw into himself, but Yuuri captured his hand. When Victor turned to him, surprised, he saw Yuuri gazing at him with a determined expression. Lacing their fingers together, Yuuri drew Victor towards him so that their foreheads touched. 

“What do you think of me, that I would give up on you so easily, having just found you?”

Shuddering, Victor stammered and leaned forward, his body melting toward Yuuri’s, his forehead all but glued to his lover’s. “I—I don’t—I didn’t…” He shut his eyes. “I didn’t mean to imply I thought you would give up. I only wanted to give you an escape, if you wanted one.”

“Because you want to be rid of me?”

“ _No!_ Never, I…” His breath caught and his eyes shut tighter. “I don’t want to lose you. But I don’t want to hurt you. I’d rather feel sorrow than regret.”

Yuuri’s soft laugh reverberated through Victor. “Funny, I feel the same way.” He lifted his head with a sigh. “Though I won’t lie to you. I’m not ready for that kind of scrutiny. I could barely handle the pressure of my bit parts on your film. I’m not sure what to do with this.”

 _Perhaps there’s hope._ Victor knew it was slim, but he could feel it, and he was determined to seize it. “Why don’t we take it slow, as best we can? Obviously I can’t come to your family’s restaurant tonight, much as I’d like to. But I can Skype you tonight. And we can text all day.”

Yuuri smiled at him. “I’d like that.”

They kissed to seal the deal, then kissed a bit more because they could. Yuuri tasted as sweet and heady as Victor remembered—better, in fact, with every sampling. Victor would have liked to make love to him one last time before they parted, but all too soon Chris’s housekeeper arrived with her son Tono, and Victor was saying goodbye to his lover as he disappeared into a pile of laundry.

Things began to unravel, slowly and quietly, after that.

It began when Yuuri wasn’t able to text him first because he was in a pile of laundry in the back of an SUV, then only a handful of nervous, harried exchanges about how he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to be doing at the laundry service place, and Chris had to take over. By the time Victor was able to talk to Yuuri again, Yuuri was rattled and raw, and then things happened too quickly—he was at Tono’s house, he was getting in Tono’s car, and then he was at the restaurant, talking to his family, and there were no more texts.

In the meantime, Chris had good news—the tabloids didn’t seem to know who Yuuri was. They weren’t waiting at Yuutopia Garden, and they didn’t seem to be in the restaurant. Except as Victor returned to his own condo, which was indeed swarming with press, it dawned on him Yuuri’s escape from the tabloids meant he could, in fact, do just that: escape. Victor tried to take solace in Yuuri’s vow that he wasn’t so easy to get rid of, but all he could think of was how upset Yuuri had sounded at the laundry. 

_What if he thinks, now that he’s alone, it would be better to avoid all this?_

Victor hovered over his laptop, desperate for his Skype to ring, convinced it wouldn’t. Hoping he was wrong.

In the end, it didn’t ring. He received a text instead.

_Victor, I’m sorry—I don’t think I can call you tonight. My family is upset because I was missing so long, everything is crazy. Can I call you tomorrow instead?_

For years Victor’s heart had been locked away, safe and sound, and now all it did was break. _I’m sorry, I have an early shoot, and I’ll be gone until late. But if you’ll be up late, I can call you then?_

 _Sorry, I have to get up crazy early the next day to take my mom to farmer’s market to get supplies._ There was a long pause, and then, _I’m so sorry, I have to go. I’ll text you tomorrow._

Victor stared at his dark phone for a long time. Tried not to imagine how this was going to play out. Tried to tell himself he was wrong. Then he gave up and put his phone and his laptop on his bedstead and crawled beneath his covers, still in his clothes. 

He lay there a long time, staring at the blank wall beside his bed, trying to decide of he sharp stab of this loneliness was better than the dull ache he’d known before, worse, or simply different.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few important notes:
> 
> 1) I only write happy endings
> 
> 2) I'm probably going to finish this tomorrow, would have done so tonight but it's late. It's going to be ASAP though because I need to be editing RFN. Though now I want to write The Storyteller's Apprentice. But for serious, editing the paying book.*
> 
> 3) there will for sure be 7 chapters but the last one will be pretty short. The next one might also be shorter. IDK. It's hard to say. I never know until I get there. I honestly didn't know Yuuri was going to get all in-his-face like that. I'm always the last to know.
> 
> 4) I really wonder how many people have ever actually been smuggled in laundry baskets or if this is simply literary convention. 
> 
>  
> 
> *maybe at night if I hit my target goals? IDK


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was not an aspect of Victor Nikiforov Yuuri had thought to imagine. He didn’t object to it. But it was a bit like anticipating a Christmas cake and then discovering it wasn’t simply delicious like you’d hoped. It was filled with champagne icing layers and decorated with delectable fruit and weeping with glittering fondant. And then when you went to take a bite…  
> Did Yuuri love Victor? He was fairly sure it was too soon to speak of such things, but that given half a moment, he would be so far gone he would never see the sun again, because Victor Nikiforov would be the only light he’d need.

When Yuuri was finally able to collapse into his bath and deprogram from his day it was nearly two in the morning. He felt so wrung-out and thin he worried if he didn’t get out of the bath before he pulled the plug he might go down the drain with the water. Of course, he didn’t know that he was ever going to get out of the water. He filled it deep then sank into the heat so far the water lapped at his nostrils and tucked his legs so that only his kneecap and part of his left thigh were exposed to the air. Cocooned the warmth and silence, he let his mind unwind from the wild, impossible events of the last twenty-four hours.

His family had been upset. _Very_ upset. As far as they knew, he’d simply gone out to deliver food and never came home. They’d thought—hoped—he simply joined the party, but when he didn’t so much as text them all day long and into the evening, missing the start of his shift, they feared the worst. Yuuri felt bad about that. He’d tried to text them, but everything had happened so fast, and he’d been so afraid in the laundry, because it had seemed like the plan had unraveled and Yuuri wasn’t sure what he was meant to do. He’d almost called his parents then _for a ride_ , but he wasn’t sure where he was,  or if there was an army of paparazzi outside, and at that point he was a melted ball of anxiety. 

The only thing anchoring him all day were Victor’s texts, and so Yuuri had leaned on them, which meant he’d forgotten his own family. He’d been so mortified about that, when he realized what he’d done, he ignored Victor instead, trying to make amends to his parents and sister by giving them all his focus. But this meant he had to explain. Had to tell them why he’d hidden in a laundry cart and come into the restaurant with a group of strangers as if he were living like a spy.

He had to tell them who he’d been with. The man whose image was still plastered on his bedroom walls. Which…seemed so strange, now.

Yuuri shut his eyes and shifted his legs to the other side of the tub, curling into a ball under the water. _Are you in love with him?_ His sister Mari had asked him that. Yuuri didn’t know how to answer. Yesterday, before he’d taken the order to Chris’s house, he’d have sighed dreamily and said of course he was. But that was a fan’s love. An idealized fantasy of an image projected. It wasn’t that the man was different in person, either—but he wasn’t a man on a poster, either. He had dimension. He had depth, and he had flaws.

He had weakness too. He was human. Ridiculous as it sounded, Yuuri hadn’t thought of Victor has human before. Not like this. This was better—so much better—but it was unfamiliar. As the day had passed, he’d remembered more and more of the evening, particularly the part before he’d begun drinking, and what he recalled the most was how earnest and caring Victor had been. He seemed to want so much to get to know Yuuri. He’d been reluctant to take advantage of him drunk. And today, when Yuuri had been nervous in the laundry, Victor had been concerned with him, unsure of how to make it better but bleeding along with him, so to speak. 

This was not an aspect of Victor Nikiforov Yuuri had thought to imagine. He didn’t object to it. But it was a bit like anticipating a Christmas cake and then discovering it wasn’t simply delicious like you’d hoped. It was filled with champagne icing layers and decorated with delectable fruit and weeping with glittering fondant. And then when you went to take a bite…

Did Yuuri love Victor? He was fairly sure it was too soon to speak of such things, but that given half a moment, he would be so far gone he would never see the sun again, because Victor Nikiforov would be the only light he’d need.

And yet.

Yuuri straightened his legs and tipped his head back to stare at the ceiling, his stomach knotting again as he thought of the photographs some photographer had of him making love with Victor. He felt violated every time he remembered. Chris had sent him a long text assuring him that the absence of cameras at the restaurant likely meant they hadn’t gotten anything or at least hadn’t identified him, but even if this were true, it was a reminder that if Victor _had_ appeared at Yuutopia Garden for dinner and flirted with Yuuri, he would have been in the gossip magazines. If he pursued this with Victor, he had to be ready for that.

It meant, he acknowledged, if he dated Victor, at some point someone likely _would_ end up with a photo of him he didn’t like. His mother would be shopping for rice and see her son’s photo in the check out aisle, grainy and photoshopped with a headline that was nothing but a lie, making him sound like a whoring playboy. 

Could he handle that? As much as he wanted Victor, could he truly handle that?

He slept fitfully, tossing and turning until dawn when he finally fell into sleep, and he stayed there until Mari shook him awake to let him know they needed him in the kitchen. He lost himself in work for most of the day, trying not to think. But he was highly conscious of his phone, silent and absent of texts in his pocket, of his failure to finish things properly with Victor. When he had his break in the afternoon, he sat in the kitchen, staring at the screen of his mobile, trying to decide what to say.

 _Hi,_ was what he went with, in the end. _I hope your shoot goes well today._ He winced as he sent it, feeling as if it was the most lame, flat, idiot thing he could say. 

But it didn’t stop his heart from racing when, two hours later, he received a reply.

 _It’s a bit rough, but thank you. Your text made it a bit easier to bear._ And then, a few heartbeats later, another. _I’m sorry again for yesterday._

Yuuri was meant to take out an order, but he ducked into the hallway instead. _It’s not your fault. It’s all right._

He wanted to say more, but he didn’t know what, and Victor didn’t reply right away, so Yuuri took out his order. Eventually he felt a buzz in his pocket, but he got busy, and when he was finally able to check the text, an hour had passed.

_When can I see you again?_

Yuuri’s heart fluttered, and his hands shook as he mentally sifted through his schedule. But then he remembered his reservation, or at least the limitation. Where would they go, how would they meet without creating a media frenzy?

He had to take an order before he could reply, and another half hour passed before he could reply. The whole time he worked, he thought about his answer. He would have time later in the week, but what sort of terms did he want to give Victor?

He didn’t know. _Sorry, was working. I’ll check my schedule and get back to you,_ he texted, feeling guilty for the lie.

 _Of course_ , was all Victor said.

It was only two words, and yet Yuuri could hear the sadness in him, as if the man had seen right through Yuuri’s falsehood and felt the sting. Or perhaps that was his guilty conscience talking.

He thought of nothing else the whole time he went with his mother and sister to farmer’s market, so spaced out they kept having to redirect him to keep him on task. He was so torn. He wanted to meet Victor. There was no question. So he didn’t know why he hesitated. He didn’t even think it was the paparazzi. He didn’t know why he was frozen. He didn’t know how to unpack this, either—but he had to, soon, or Victor would slip away from him. He could feel it happening. He didn’t want it to happen. And yet here he was.

When they returned to the restaurant, his heartbeat quickened in hope and terror—there _was_ paparazzi there now, not tons, but enough that it was clear someone famous waited inside Yuutopia. _Victor_ , Yuuri’s heart whispered, and he hurried inside. But it wasn’t Victor. It was Chris.

Giacometti winked as he saw Yuuri and waved him over. “If it isn’t my favorite waiter. Come on and have a seat.”

The restaurant was full of people staring and taking pictures of Chris, whispering and pointing at him, now also doing the same to Yuuri. The cameras were outside, but several had their lenses pressed to the window, zooming in. Yuuri wondered if he was about to be labelled _Chris’s_ boyfriend—and he didn’t like the idea of that at all.

He didn’t sit, but rather nodded at the back. “Do you want to talk in the back?”

“Oh, there will be more rumors if you do that. Go ahead and sit. This won’t take long.” He waited until Yuuri sat, and then he continued. “I wanted to know first of all how you were doing.”

Yuuri considered this. “Fine,” he settled on, not wanting to get into the rest.

Chris nodded. “Good to hear. Now for my second question: are you interested in a relationship with Victor, or have you been scared off?” When Yuuri blushed and drew back, ready to tell him that was none of his business, Chris pressed on. “Because he’s my best friend, and he’s quite despondent right now, worried this has fallen apart before it could begin. While it’s your right to back out, I want to know if that’s what’s you’re doing, and I’d like you to make a clean break of it. Please don’t string him along. Despite the bad guy roles he plays and the cool image he projects, in truth he’s quite tenderhearted. I don’t want him hurt.”

Yuuri blushed, shamed and taken aback. He had already sensed that about Victor himself, and yet what had he done? Exactly what Chris had said, strung him along. He pressed his hands to his cheeks and stared at the tabletop. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to do that. I…I’m sorry.”

Chris didn’t let up. “Do you have feelings for him, Yuuri?”

Nodding, Yuuri’s blush deepened. “I do. But…”

“But the celebrity scrutiny is too much?”

Yuuri shook his head, lowering his hands. “No. That’s not it. I mean, I don’t care for it much, but it’s not why I’m so paralyzed. I’ve been trying to sort it out all day.” He toyed with the edge of a cloth napkin. “Everything is happening so fast. I didn’t know he thought of me this way. He’s been someone I idolized for so long, and it’s strange to reorganize my feelings so quickly. I don’t want to fall in love with the false aspect of him—I want to see the true Victor. But…” He let go of the napkin with a sigh. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s because I don’t trust that someone like him could want someone like me. Or that I’m terrified of the version of myself I am when I’m with him.”

Chris raised his eyebrows, smiling. “What, you don’t like being confident, sexy, gorgeous?”

Yuuri put his hands to his cheeks again, knowing they flamed. “But I can’t maintain that. Mostly I’m awkward and shy, and strange. He’s going to be so disappointed in me.”

“Yuuri.” Chris took his hands, pulled them from his face. “He loves it that aspect of you. He’s captivated by the contrast. He loves that you see him but also need him—he’s desperate to be your acting coach, by the way—and he’s giddy when you seduce him. He sees you the same way you see him. And for the record, he’s as afraid of being rejected as you.”

Now Yuuri’s heart ached. He wanted to go to him now—except he didn’t, because he still felt panicked. “How do I approach him, then? How do I get over my own sense of anxiety and show him I want him at the same time?” He pursed his lips. “Without alcohol, so I can remember what I did?”

“Well, I did have _one_ idea.” Chris rested his chin in his hand, a wicked look in his eye. “Do you trust me?”

Yuuri only hesitated for a moment. “Let’s hear it, he said,” and settled in to listen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one more chapter left, and I'll finish it next here after breakfast. So in another hour or so.
> 
> I forgot to mention I have a Spotify playlist for this, in case you're into that kind of thing. https://open.spotify.com/user/12123422997/playlist/3jETSYCrXKmdLEsPP5HVFN


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri. The man was Yuuri.  
> Yuuri was looking right at him, looking at him with determination, with that same sexy confidence, and he was pushing through the crowd, still dancing, toward Victor.  
> “Chris, what in the world is happening?” Victor whispered.  
> “I think you’re being flirted with.” Chris leaned in closer and spoke directly into Victor’s ear. “Also, I suspect someone’s decided they’re okay with your celebrity. Just a hunch.”

It was the longest week of shooting in Victor’s life.

The movie wasn’t particularly good, and his role was flat, lifeless—yet another Russian bad guy, this one with a penchant for breaking fingers. Victor went home feeling empty whenever he played those kind of roles, but it was especially bad now that all he thought about was Yuuri and how playing these roles was costing him seeing those smiles, exploring that light. 

Yuuri hadn’t ended things formally, not yet, but Victor was convinced that’s where they were headed. Their texts were so stilted and awkward, and it was impossible to connect with each other, even in Skype. Victor’s hours on the set were long, and his narrow window before he had to get to bed usually coincided with when Yuuri was on shift at the restaurant or helping his parents close down. _Maybe this weekend,_ Yuuri said, when he heard Victor would have a day off. But that was all the further they took their plans, and Victor didn’t have the heart to press him.

He didn’t pressure Yuuri to formally end things, either, because he was so desperate he would take these crumbs, if they were all he could have. If only the world knew that this was how the legend Victor Nikiforov behaved. 

If their knowing would mean he could have Yuuri, he’d plaster his desperation on every billboard in Hollywood.

Chris, as ever, was a rock, trying to cheer him up, encouraging him to keep the faith. “It’s all new to him, and you said himself he idolized you before he met you. Give him time to adjust.”

Victor tried. But it was too easy to feel as if Yuuri were slipping away, that there was nothing Victor could do to stop him.

“Come to the club with me,” Chris urged him on Saturday. “You need to be distracted.”

The very idea made Victor’s skin crawl. “I don’t want to go put on a front among strangers, make more hay for the paparazzi.”

“No, you want to stay home and brood. I’m not going to let you. We’re going to get dressed, take a drive by the ocean, and dance under the lights. Go be Victor Nikiforov for a night. You _enjoy_ your celebrity, remember?”

“Do I, Chris? It’s costing me so much.”

“It’s part of who you are. If he doesn’t like it, it’s a blow, and you’ll need to heal, but it doesn’t change the fact it’s you.” Chris folded his arms over his chest. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

Victor couldn’t. He put a hand through his hair. “I…still want him, Chris.”

“I know.” Chris put a hand on his arm. “But trying to change who you are won’t bring him to you.”

Chris was right, much as Victor hated to admit it. And so he went, though at first he was simply putting himself through the motions. He brooded all through he drive, and when he first arrived at the club, he was _acting_ Victor Nikiforov. Playing at enjoying his celebrity. His smiles felt distant, plastered on his face. When men and women flirted with him, he felt as if a robotic version of him responded. When he danced, his body moved, but his heart felt empty inside of him. He wondered if he would find his joy back if he kept moving. Or if this was how he would be now, until he learned to forget again.

What if Yuuri truly was his soul mate, and being without him meant he felt empty forever?

The club broke out in whispers and buzzes of conversation that meant someone interesting had arrived, but Victor didn’t turn, not at first. Not until he saw Chris too looked intrigued, and even then Victor only glanced with half his heart engaged, certain he wouldn’t care who had come to dance.

Three Asian men had arrived, the tallest of the three in the center. They were all clad in black, all wearing sunglasses with their hair slicked back and spiked like a Kpop band, but the man in the center wore a gauzy, sparkling shirt which, Victor realized, let his nipples and sculpted abdomen be seen through the fabric.

The center man looked like…

Victor’s breath caught. It couldn’t be.

The music had shifted as they entered—it really was Kpop—and as the floor around them cleared, they began to dance. Not simply moved to the music, they _danced_. As if this were a music video and they were they singers. Undulating their bodies, popping their hips, sliding into the splits, then leaping up again—clearly the tight black pants were Lycra—the crowd went wild, cheering them on, widening the circle to give them more space.

The man in the sparkling shirt was the best dancer, by far. The way he moved his body wasn’t simply in time to the music, it was its own kind of music, drawing his audience in. His energy pulsed as if he were a star fallen from the night sky, moving across the dance floor. He was subtly sexy, enigmatic, beautiful.

He reminded Victor of…he had to be, but he couldn’t be…

The man took off his sunglasses and tossed them into the crowd, turned around with a playboy’s smile and wink for his audience, and Victor had to put a hand on Chris’s shoulder to steady himself. 

Yuuri. The man was Yuuri.

Yuuri was looking right at him, looking at him with determination, with that same sexy confidence, and he was pushing through the crowd, still dancing, toward Victor.

“Chris, what in the world is happening?” Victor whispered.

“I think you’re being flirted with.” Chris leaned in closer and spoke directly into Victor’s ear. “Also, I suspect someone’s decided they’re okay with your celebrity. Just a hunch.”

The crowd had cleared around _them_ now, and Yuuri’s backup dancers followed him as Yuuri danced his way, with slow determination, toward Victor. Victor recognized the other two now—Phichit Chulanont and Guang Hong Ji, two other actors from the movie where Victor had met Yuuri. Victor suspected he was the only one who recognized them, though everyone in the crowd was taking their photo as if they were an actual Kpop trio. Now that they’d realized Yuuri had his sights on Victor, though, they were more excited—the story had plot, and they were filming, waiting to see what happened as Yuuri set his smoulder to stun and continued his approach.

What happened was Victor lost his composure. He didn’t know how to behave, what to do, how to trust that this was real, what Yuuri was doing, and without meaning to, he stumbled backward. When Yuuri only continued toward him, Victor stepped backward again, until he was against a wall.

Yuuri danced up to him as the music shifted, like butter, to a Kpop ballad, and trapped him with an arm beside his head. When Victor shifted away from it, surprised, Yuuri caught the side of his face, stroking his cheek.

Murmurs and camera flashes erupted around them.

Victor slumped several inches down the wall as he melted into Yuuri’s touch, and he stared up at him, stunned and slightly lost. “Yuuri?”

Yuuri smiled wryly, raising an eyebrow. “Am I behaving so different you don’t recognize me?”

“If you were drunk, I’d know you right away,” Victor replied, and he wasn’t joking.

Yuuri laughed, a blush staining his cheeks, and there was the man Victor had woken up with, the man he’d made love to. His world began to right itself.

But then it shifted again as Yuuri stroked his face and said, “Mr. Nikiforov, I’d like very much to have this dance.”

What could Victor do but nod and allow himself to be led to the dance floor?

This was the third time he’d danced with Yuuri, but the first time sober, and the first time in public. He was surprised to find he was shy—and shocked to discover Yuuri was not. Yuuri led, spinning him, dipping him, grinding with him, urging him into their own private space in full view of the club and, given the number of camera phones aimed at them, the rest of the world. He had no doubt they were being livestreamed in at least seven different places, that Yakov was already leaving him furious and desperate messages. 

Yuuri was everything he had always been when the two of them danced together. He was everything that had captivated Victor. And yet if Victor looked, he could see the nerves beneath Yuuri’s surface too. All of him was there.

All of him had come for Victor.

The music shifted again, no longer Kpop but simply standard dance music, something a little slower that let the two of them sway, let Victor find the space to speak.

“I thought you were drifting away from me,” he confessed.

Yuuri shook his head, shifted his hands lower on Victor’s hips. “I just needed some time to sort myself out. To separate the you from my fantasies from the you before me. I needed to figure out a way to enter your world too. There was so much, so fast. Plus I had to work out how I felt about acting, if I wanted to go back after all, because I knew what you meant, that being with you publicly would mean that door would open again. It was a lot to process. And it was hard to explain all that in texts.”

Victor felt ridiculous, now, for worrying. “Well, you certainly made an entrance. And my knees are still weak from the way you walked me against that wall.”

“It’s called _kabe-don_. It’s a Japanese convention in shojo manga where the hero backs the heroine against the wall, trapping her inside his arms, sometimes even slamming her with a little force as he reveals his true feelings for her.”

Victor replayed the way Yuuri had trapped him, that feeling of being overpowered, that confident look in his lover’s eye—he thought of Yuuri pushing him there more forcefully, grabbing his chin and saying, “ _But I love you, Victor_ ,” with a syrupy soundtrack playing in the background, and Victor lost his footing. He cleared his throat. “It’s a good convention.”

Yuuri leaned in close, scraped his cheek alongside Victor’s as he whispered in his ear. “If you take me back to your place, I’ll push you against every wall of your house, and I’ll make love to you there until you can’t stand on your own.”

Victor could barely stand now. He gripped Yuuri’s shoulders. “I’ll tell Chris I’m leaving.”

“No need. He’s the one who helped me set this up. He knows where we’re going. But I have a favor to ask you first.” Yuuri pulled back, cheeks staining slightly as he stroked Victor’s chin. “Would you mind kissing me? Right here on the dance floor, where everyone can see? Because I told my mother she was probably going to see a picture of me being kissed by Victor Nikiforov on the tabloids next time she went to the grocery store, and I don’t want to disappoint her.”

Victor smiled so wide he felt like he was going to break his face as he stared, heart soaring, at Yuuri, allowing himself one moment to wallow in this, to relish the fact that no, Yuuri hadn’t rejected him, that he had, in fact embraced him in the best way possible. 

Then he took his lover in his arms, angled their faces so they could be best seen by the cameras, and kissed him like he’d never kissed anyone before. Like a lover back from war. Like a sailor back from sea.

Like a man coming home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap. Probably should edit it a bit, but that's not for right now. Hope you enjoyed, thanks for reading! Now back to work for me.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so if you've read any of my published work, you might be going, "Hey, Cullinan, you kind of already wrote a book called Special Delivery," which, true. But I had this idea for a YOI remix on the theme the other day--not a trucker fantasy this time, just katsudon delivery, though this definitely has serious sexy times 
> 
> I have one other fic right now which is YOI also but nothing like this one, which I will probably start updating again soon (though I won't be as regular as I was with this one). You can find me meanwhile at @cullinankatsudon on tumblr, @heidicullinan on twitter, and my day job at heidicullnan.com.


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